Dear Sabo
by Alana33
Summary: Marco and Ace were walking home when suddenly a girl pops out of nowhere and literally falls unconscious in front of them. Who is this girl? Why does she look like she's gone to hell and back? And who is this Sabo she keeps calling out to? Starting as a diary-fic [OC x Sabo (brotherly)] Whitebeards. Please tell me if the rating is not correct. AU
1. Diary 1

Dear Sabo,

I'm pretty sure I'll die soon. I'll try not to anyways, but shit is not looking good for me. Whatever, I've never been good at following the odds.

They gave me a notebook.

A. Freaking. Notebook.

You know what that means, right? After all, what's the fun of making somebody a test subject if you are not going to study him or her at all levels? And their mental state is a level, isn't it? So let the poor bastard write their thoughts, and we'll read them once they are dead, to use them for future reference. Sick, ain't it?

So I got a notebook. Crap. HOLY CRAP. I guess it was only a matter of time, though. After so many years, your luck can't last forever. I'm so screwed it hurts.

Wait a second. I just realized. I don't allow anyone else besides me and Sabo to read this. If you are someone else, stop reading. Seriously, stop. These are my personal thought. Leave them alone.

Shit's getting real now. You still won't heed my plea? FINE, I'll tell you in simpler words, _fuck the fuck off my fucking notebook you fucking fucker._ A lot of fuck's there.

You are still not me or Sabo. Go away. There's nothing for you between these pages. There never will be. So stop reading.

You still there? I didn't realize people could reach this level of stupidity, congratulations loser.

Anyways, I'm NOT going to introduce myself, or write my epiphanies, or try and convince myself that there's SOMETHING good about this situation as I guess most people do in their notebooks. I'm also NOT going to cut this place any slack in fear that somebody might read this before I die. If I die, I die, but I'm saying this. If you didn't want to hear it, you shouldn't have given me a notebook.

You probably are still reading this, completely ignoring me, aren't you? Never mind. Read if you want. Feel free to take a tour in the insane labyrinth of half-trues and surrealism that my subconscious has become. Explore. Get lost in it. Breathe in the years of pain and fear. And then stuff this notebook somewhere where nobody will see it again. Condemn it to remain in a corner, forgotten. Maybe then the memories imprinted in it will become less pungently tangible. My soul can be found between these pages. Let it rest peacefully out of the limelight, covered by a layer of dust. Can you see it yet? Can you hear it? The crumble of a broken mind that starts disintegrating.

Let it sunk into oblivion.


	2. Diary 2

**Hello, everyone! So, I wrote the second part of this, I'm sorry it's so short. I'll try to (finally) update the third chapter, which will be much longer, as soon as possible, but I don't make any promises. School's hard, life's hard and I sometimes hate my writing style. Yeah.**

**Anyways, this is also a Diary entry. Next chap will be in the "present" of the story, though, we'll see if I can or cannot write dialogues and descriptions well enough for me to not feel utterly ashamed of posting it. **

**Lots of melancholy in here. I regret nothing ;). And thanks to RainbowGuardian13 for the encouragement. I did promise you a second part!**

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><p>Dear Sabo,<p>

I didn't know you could be scared of nothing at all. Three days ago I was picked. That's about all that has happened. I'm starting to panic. What is taking so long?

My mind won't stop coming up with worst-case scenarios. It doesn't matter that I tell myself that it's okay if I _finally_ die, Sabo. I'm scared. I've seen it all. You've seen it all. You know what happens to the people that receive notebooks. I'm not scared of death. I'm not scared of torture, or pain. But I'm terrified right now.

I want to live.

I want to see the sky, and the trees and find out what color is the water. I want to see the sea, and the mountains, and feel the wind on my skin and the sun tracing warm patterns on my face. I want to bathe in raindrops and dance under the stars. I want to see what are roses and why everyone says they are so pretty. I want to taste real food. I want to try the oh-so-called delicious, meat. I want to reach for the sky and not bump my fingers in solid rock. I want to smell clean air, one that doesn't smell like blood and rotten flesh.

I want to be able to smile and really mean it.

I want to be able to see someone smiling.

I want a caged ray of sunshine to carry around in my pocket so I won't be scared of the darkness anymore.

I want to stay awake all night because you are whispering to me and not because blood-curling screams fill the corridors.

I want to have a watch, tick tock, so I can count the seconds that I spend alone, without you.

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock

Can you hear it? Do you see it yet?

Broken mirrors can only reflect so many images, and their shards are sharp. They embed themselves in your flesh and let the wounds heal over the tiny fragments of glass, and they hurt every time you move.

There's a hole carved in my chest. It forms the letters of your name. S-A-B-O

One promise, and one hundred million memories making the tears overflow.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading ;D<strong>


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